


Crash

by fanficfantasy



Category: McFly
Genre: AU, Angst, Fluff, M/M, McFly - Freeform, One Shot, Slash, but happy mostly especially the ending, can do a smutty part or flashback if anyone wants??idk, pudd
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-06-10
Updated: 2014-06-10
Packaged: 2018-02-04 04:34:49
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,941
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1765663
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fanficfantasy/pseuds/fanficfantasy
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>basically dougie and harry are complete soul mates but have to part due to harry's mother's health, they reunite but will things be the same?</p>
            </blockquote>





	Crash

**Author's Note:**

> really short one shot I wrote ages ago when I was obsessed with mcfly, title taken from ymas song 'crash' because I think I was listening to it at the time??
> 
> some bits are flashbacks hope that's clear if not let me know and I'll edit it so it's clearer:)

Harry flashed me a little smile as we passed in the hall way. I stammered something about trying to find the bathroom and he laughed under his breath, gesturing to the door beside me. I blushed and slipped inside, washing my face. My hands were shaking as I pushed the bedroom door open, holding my breath as I watched Harry undress, unaware of his audience. He pulled his t-shirt over his head, his muscles contracting and rippling beneath his skin. I knew I should have cleared my throat or made some kind of noise so that he knew I was there, but I couldn’t. I was suddenly incapable of moving or speaking or anything. He kicked off his jeans, before turning to face me.  
“It’s rude to stare Doug,” he shook his head playfully.  
I blushed again, quickly shuffling into the room and shrugging out of my own t-shirt.  
Harry jumped into bed, the duvet settling just below his chin. I laughed when I saw him, discarding my combat shorts and crawling into bed after him.  
“So,” he paused, tucking his arm around my waist as my head settled on his chest. “What do you think of my new bachelor pad?”  
“It’s massive.” I mumbled, my eyelids heavy and threatening to shut.  
“Not the first time I’ve made you say that.” He muttered, laughing to himself, making my head bob up and down.  
“I’m glad you find yourself funny, someone has to,” I teased.  
“I’m a comedy genius,” he corrected, smoothing his hand over my back, making me shiver.  
“Harry…I’m tired-”  
“No you’re not, you’re Dougie.” He cut me off, spluttering into realms of laughter, forcing him to sit up.  
“Really?” I widened my eyes, rolling onto my side of the bed.  
“I’m sorry, ‘dad’ humour is my thing,” he wiped his eyes, the odd chuckle rocking through his chest.  
I watched the tears of laughter stain Harry’s cheeks, filling me with an intense feeling of happiness. It burned through my heart as I watched the love of my life laughing at his own jokes, not a care in the world. I promised myself that I would only ever see tears of happiness on his face. I would protect him from any sadness whenever I could, because a laugh like that was worth hearing for eternity. 

-

The shop was busier than I expected when I returned from lunch. Michaela had held the fought the best she could, but admittedly she was the less capable of my employees, hence why I never let her actually tattoo anyone. She had the qualifications and a little bit of experience, but surprisingly her first day had gone badly. I always got my new employees to give me a tattoo. Only a small one mind, but just something to show they were now part of my dream. I had asked her for a little alien, just on the edge of my sleeve. What I had received however, was a daisy. How on earth she got those two things confused I will never know. So from then on, she was a designer at best. I liked her, so I kept her on. The tattoo parlour was my life, so I wanted it to be surrounded by people I got on with. 

When Harry moved away, I knew I had to fill the void. He had been my everything for just over six years, but then he was gone. At first he was going away to visit his mum in Dubai. She was ill and the doctor’s didn’t think she would make it. He asked me to go with him, but I couldn’t. I was still at college, at the ripe old age of twenty-three, studying to become a tattoo artist. I wasn’t thinking of owning my own shop at that point, in fact, I mainly just wanted to learnt to do my own. Harry knew when he asked that I couldn’t, but I guess he hoped that he was wrong. I waved him off, both of us crying. He promised he would be back in a few weeks, whatever happened. He rung me on week two, his voice uncharacteristically small and timid. I knew something was wrong, in the pit of my stomach I knew his mother had died. But this time I was wrong. He told me that she was doing okay, but that they had put her into a hospice. Her days were still numbered, it was just that the number was higher than anyone had anticipated. He said that he was going to stay there with her. I stayed silent. I still couldn’t go, and he knew it. I could tell by his tone that there was something else, and I knew that I didn’t want to hear it. He said, very slowly, that he loved me more than anything. He said that our time together had been magical. He was never going to find someone like me, and that I deserved the very best that life could offer. He said that, unfortunately, that wasn’t him. 

I cried and he cried too. He said that he had to choose his mum over me, it was unavoidable. I understood, of course, but I still hated it. I begged him to come home, and bring her with him. We have good health care in England, it’ll be the same, if not better! He told me she couldn’t fly, she was too ill. He said he had thought of every option, really. He never wanted to have to end things with us, but he couldn’t bare the thought of me wasting my life waiting for him. It wasn’t a waste, I told him, I could wait forever if I had to. He cried harder. Deep down I think he wanted me to wait. We talked it over for hours, before we both realised that he was right. We had to break up, for both of our sakes. 

-

We woke up a little after noon, the rain rattling against every window. I curled into Harry’s chest as he rolled over, slinging his arm over my back.  
“Sleep well?” He mumbled into his pillow.  
“Yeah,” I breathed, nuzzling his chest with my nose. “You?”  
“Yeah,” he sighed, turning his body slightly so he could look at me.  
“What?” I laughed.  
“I’ve got a…proposition for you,” he bit his lip, his cheeks beginning to blush.  
I raised my eyebrows, gesturing for him continue.  
“Well you know how this house is massive…” He trailed off, running his fingers through my hair idly. “I was wondering if you wanted to move in with me?”  
“What?” I sat up sharply, leaning over him, staring in disbelief.  
“I’m sure your flatmates won’t mind…”  
“Oh Harry,” I lunged towards him, kissing him hard. “Of course I’ll move in with you,”  
“Really?” His eyes widened as he brushed his thumb over my cheek gingerly.  
“Yes!” I grinned. “I mean, we practically do already,”  
“I guess,” he shrugged. “But I want it to be official.”  
We went out for lunch a little while later, holding hands whenever we could, happiness beaming off of us. For years now I’d wanted to live with Harry, but I knew I had to wait for him to suggest it as the he had always had his own house, and I had never had more than a thousand pound to my name. He had a car, brand new when he bought it, and a huge television, and several original pieces of artwork. I was nineteen years old, and the most expensive thing I had ever owned was an x box. When I had first met Harry I had no idea his parents were wealthy, which I was thankful for as I did not find the privileged attractive. I think he sensed that as it was a questionable 8 months into our relationship before he brought me back to his. I was embarrassed when I realised what he was used to, images of my pokey three bedroom flat that I shared with two failed drama students and a newly qualified nail technician floating around my head. Harry was different to any private school boy I’d met before though. He was ridiculously generous, but not in a way that made you feel small. He worked at his dad’s office as well, so respectably most of his money was his own. I worked at the pharmacy in town, earning just above the minimum wage, so our lifestyles were considerably different. That was what worked though, the diversity securing conversation and supporting the theory that opposites attract.

-

I returned to the house that I used to share with Harry. I had wanted to sell it, or just leave it for Harry to deal with, but he insisted I stayed there. I told him there was no way I could afford it but he assured me he had paid off the mortgage so all I had to worry about was basic bills, some of my friends could move in as well if it made it easier. He was always so reasonable - too reasonable- it made everything that bit more painful. I redecorated the house as soon as I could, covering the memories with a thick layer of wallpaper. I dumped my bag in the hall, stretching my arms out above my head as I staggered into the kitchen, flicking on the kettle, shoving four biscuits into my mouth at once as I waited.  
“It’s a true fallacy that you’re so thin, considering the amount of biscuits you eat, Douglas.” Seth snorted, appearing in the doorway.  
“You’re back!” I smiled, my eyes wide.  
“Yep…no more late nights this week, and only one next week,”  
The kettle bubbled and Seth took two mugs out of the cupboard, making the tea as I ate more biscuits.  
“I thought we could go to dinner later babe,” He paused to sip at his tea, flinching as it burned his lips. “Make up for all those nights alone?”  
“Sounds great,” I grinned, putting my mug on the counter top and looping my arms around his neck, kissing him softly, glad to have him back at a reasonable time.

Seth was a policeman. He was some kind of constable or detective or something like that, all I really knew was that he was fairly important. We met three years ago now, when he came into my parlour. At first he pretended he was on a drug bust, making me break out into a sweat, petrified of being shut down. I was less than impressed when he started laughing, telling me he just wanted a tattoo, and maybe a nipple piercing. I stared at him incredulously. Okay, just the tattoo, he said. I did the tattoo myself, tempted to just stab him with a rusty nail and run. I half-heartedly drew the outline of a gigantic owl over his forearm, telling him that he would need to book a few more sessions so I could add detail and colour. He said that was fine, so I saw him a few more times. When the tattoo was finally finished, he asked me out. I wanted to say no, but he didn’t really give me a chance. It turned out we’d gone to college together, and he had been in my tattoo course. I didn’t remember him, but then I didn’t really remember anyone, all I could remember was Harry leaving. I think he’d liked me for a while and, like almost everyone who encountered me during the last year of the course, knew that I was now single. After a few more dinner dates and trips to the beach, he moved in with me. We made a good couple, and he helped me move on, even if he didn’t realise it. I never spoke about Harry, so he only had a dim picture of how badly I’d handled it. Seth was a really good guy, and I hoped that I did actually love him. I didn’t want to hurt him.

Seth took me to the most expensive restaurant in town that evening. He wore a suit, his dark blonde hair slicked back, a massive grin on his face. He held my hand tightly, so incredibly proud to be seen with me. He pulled my chair out for me, rolling his eyes when I laughed. Seth liked to be the man in our relationship, but unfortunately for him, I didn’t like being the woman. He held my hand over the table, beaming at me.  
“What?” I frowned, his stare suddenly becoming somewhat unnerving.  
“It just feels like forever since we’ve done this,” he shrugged.  
We ate slowly, enjoying the time together. People stared at us, but we didn’t care. We finished the meal with coffee, laughing about the day we first met and our first date, and all of the other firsts. I couldn’t help but think about Harry, and I hated that. Harry was the first of everything for me. My first boyfriend, my first time, my first kiss and the first person I ever let close to me. Normally I managed to block him out, but just the word ‘first’ brought him straight back into my mind like a curse. 

-

Harry pulled his hand out of my boxers, laughing at my wide eyed expression and bright red cheeks. My chest was pounding as he cleaned us both up, biting into his bottom lip to stop himself from bursting into a splutter of laughter. He curled my fingers around another glass of wine, kissing my neck softly, muttering a few I love yous into my skin. I blushed harder, leaning into him, his hair tickling my forehead.  
“Are you alright?” He chuckled, our eyes finally meeting.  
I nodded, smiling shyly.  
“Did you have fun?” His eyes almost brimmed with tears as he fought back more laughs.  
“Will you stop!” I laughed for him, climbing into his lap and curling up, my head resting on his shoulder. “You said you’d be nice,”  
“I was nice, it’s just weird seeing you so quiet,” he smirked, pecking my lips.  
“Did I do okay?” I whispered as he held me closer, rubbing my back gently, his fingers trailing over my spine.  
“Yeah,” he kissed the top of my head.  
“As good as your other boyfriends?” I teased.  
“One boyfriend,” he corrected, knowing that I knew that already and was just being dramatic because I loved to wind him up.  
I laughed, kissing his shoulder.  
“Are you hungry?”  
“Obviously,” I was always hungry.  
We put our underwear back on and went into the living room, settling on the sofa and ordering a pizza with all the toppings and two tubs of chocolate ice cream. We ate for the rest of the night, watching cheesy films and bitching about people from our work. Harry was mainly concerned with people’s bad fashion choices, whereas I was bitter about customers with attitude. My flatmates came home just gone midnight, greeting Harry before slipping off into their rooms. Harry stayed the night, his arms wrapped tightly around me as we slept. That was when I knew I was completely in love with him. Everything was as perfect as I imagined it would be in my first relationship. I felt so loved by Harry that nothing else could bother me. He would never how much it hurt not to be with him, and how hard it had been for me to move on, and try to forget the times that were so perfect.

-

I sat in the office and watched people walk into the shop. It was interesting to see the different types of people who wanted a tattoo. We did piercings at the weekend when the guy could come in and set up, so we had more clients than usual that day. I span in my chair, doing anything to avoid updating the accounts. I drained my fourth coffee of the hour, wincing as the caffeine shook through my chest. I cracked my fingers, changing the song on my ipod dock and opening another packet of biscuits.  
“Dougie, someone’s requested you,” Michaela popped her head around the door.  
“Alright,” I nodded, pleased to have a justifiable distraction. “Do they want anything big?”  
“I don’t know,” she shrugged, following me down the hall. “He didn’t say.”  
“Right,” I sighed. “Can you have a stab at managing the accounts for me whilst I’m doing this?”  
She gave me a two finger salute before disappearing as I turned to walk into the tattoo room.  
“Hi,” I smiled half-heartedly as I shut the door behind me.  
“Hello Dougie.”  
I swallowed hard as I heard the guy’s voice.  
“You look really well,”  
I turned slowly, my heart dropping as I saw Harry sitting on the grey leather chair. I dropped to my knees as he flashed me a smile. His smile faded quickly as I sobbed harder and harder. He didn’t comfort me because he knew I wouldn’t want that, which only made me cry more.  
“You can’t be here.” I insisted, finally looking up at him, leaning my aching back against the wall, remaining on the floor.  
“I’m sorry.” His brow creased. “Dad moved back here and we got so close since mum died so I came too and…well I wanted to see how you’re doing.”  
“I’m sorry about your mum,” I stood up slowly, although I kept my distance.  
“Thank you, but it was four and a half years ago,” he pressed his lips into a hard line, the topic understandably still too sensitive to discuss.  
“Do you still work at your dad’s?”  
“Yeah, I’m a partner now,”  
“Congratulations,”  
“Thank you. Congratulations on your tattoo parlour, I’m very proud of you.”  
I stayed silent.  
“Seth is cute.”  
My eyes widened suddenly.  
“The picture on the wall at reception,” he explained. “Your assistant said his name, I’m not a stalker, don’t worry.”  
“He’s really good to me.” I nodded slowly.  
“Is he the love of your life?” Harry asked quietly, as if he was terrified for the answer.  
“No.” I answered immediately. “You were. You know that.”  
He smiled, but it was sad.  
“What about you?”  
“No one.” He shook his head. “No one after you.”  
“Don’t make me feel bad about moving on.” I snapped.  
“I’m not.” He sighed. “You asked me.”  
“What tattoo do you want?” I walked towards him, sitting on the stool beside the chair and pulling on a pair of black latex gloves.  
“Um…” He shuffled uncomfortably. “You do realise I only came here to see you?”  
“Obviously.” I rolled my eyes. “But I’m still gonna give you a fucking tattoo.”  
He grinned, and so did I.  
“Whatever you want.” He shrugged.  
“Cock and balls it is then.”

In the end we decided on a homage to his mother; red roses on his hip with mum written across them. I suggested it, and instantly I knew that Harry knew I still cared. I took time on the petals, trying desperately not to pay attention to Harry’s half naked body. He flexed his stomach muscles every time I leant my hand there, making me blush.  
“Do you still live at the house?” He asked, breaking the long silence.  
“Yeah,” I nodded, adding more red to the needle. “I redecorated though.”  
“Understandable.”  
“Seth lives there too.” I took a deep breath.  
“Cool.” He answered quickly, making it obvious that it was anything but cool.  
“You don’t have to ask Harry,” I glanced at his face. “It would hurt me too.”  
“No, I’m interested, it’s been a long time Dougs,”  
“Please don’t call me that.” I flinched.  
“Sorry,” he whispered.  
“It’s fine.” I patted down the ink before starting on the writing. “Does that feel okay?”  
“I’ve endured worse.”  
I stayed silent.  
“Do you love Seth?” He rubbed his eyes, becoming even more tense.  
“Yes,”  
“Are you in love with him?”  
I gulped.  
“Dougie…if you have any doubts…please…” He begged for something he was unsure of, his eyes honest and wet.  
“He’s good to me.” I said firmly, finishing the lettering swiftly, pushing the needle in harder than I should of, so he would stop talking.  


I finished the tattoo, wrapping it up and cleaning the work station. Harry stood at the door and watched me. I could feel his eyes on me as I washed my hands and walked him into my office. I told him the bill and he searched in his pocket for his wallet. He placed it in the table between us and pulled out his credit card, leaving it open so I could see the photo booth picture of us tucked in one side. I pretended I hadn’t seen it but he knew I had. I charged the bill to his card and, without a word, opened my drawer, grabbing the framed picture of us and pushing it towards him. He frowned, remembering how I had hated the picture when we first got it. But the more I had looked at it, the more I’d grown to love it. Harry had framed it for me as a present, and it had taken pride of place on the coffee table in the living room.  
“Not just me then,” he smiled slightly, tracing our faces with his finger over the glass.  
“Harry, cut the shit.” I groaned, throwing the picture back into the drawer and kicking it shut. “This isn’t you - this humble act you’re putting on - you’re angry about Seth, aren’t you?”  
“Jealous is more the word,” he mused.  
“It’s not my fault you didn’t move on.”  
“You don’t mean that, you’d feel horrible if I was with someone else,” he paused, running his fingers through his hair. “You’d feel how I feel now.”  
“Don’t,” I winced, old desires spiralling through my mind.  
I wanted to be with Harry more than anything right now. He looked good, better than before. More muscle and darker hair and a better tan, and browner eyes. Everything was better. He somehow spoke smoother than before, his tone lighter and more understanding. He was wearing shirts now, most of the buttons open, the material stretched across his broad shoulders. I don’t know if he looked like this on purpose or it had just happened over time, but all I knew was that I hated how it made me feel.  
“Does Seth make you feel how I made you feel?” Harry was suddenly closer to me than before, scraping his chair across the floor.  
“Harry… that’s past tense you’re using, it doesn’t matter…” I stammered, his hand now on my arm.  
“Okay,” He said quickly, leaning in closer. “How I make you feel,” he pressed his lips to mine, his free hand on my jaw, every movement gentle.  
I should of pulled away but I couldn’t. I kissed him back, my fingers knotting in his hair. I climbed onto his lap, not caring when my knee pushed against his freshly inked hip, his groans of pain irrelevant. 

He told me he loved me when our lips parted. 

He cried and said he was in love with me and he didn’t want me to be with Seth anymore. I told him it wasn’t that easy. He said it had to be. Seth could keep the house, he didn’t care. But Seth couldn’t keep me. 

I told him that I did love Seth. 

He asked me if it compared to him. I said no. 

I told him no one did. I loved Seth, but it was immeasurable when Harry was in the picture. 

Harry was my first everything and evidently, he would be my last.


End file.
